Peculair Poinsettia #13

He was LSD. He was a god. He was a musician, a voodoo child, a revolutionary; he dared to play white music. He was the combination of earth and space that Adam envied. He was flamboyant, he was radical. He burned his fuckin’ guitar. He was the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually

I was ten years old when my father bought eight tapes called “The Complete Jimi Hendrix”. It was August, it was hot, and the fifteen passenger van that he was driving lacked air conditioning. The widows were open, letting the dust and grass come in. The plastic vinyl seats were hot to the touch, and the area around my seat was sticky from all the sweat my body poured out. I was hot, tired grumpy, and checked out…the only way to deal with my misery of the four hours left to go.

And so castles made of sand melts into the sea, eventually

The tape went in. And the sound sensation that followed….What he did with music was like waking up and seeing the world in negative. Later, I could equate it to taking a shot of whiskey for the first time. Burning, Vivid…psychedelic.

But then a sight shed never seen made her jump and say
Look a golden winged ship is passing my way.

And we’d listen. “Hey Joe”, “Foxy Lady” “Purple Haze” were the theme songs of the various road trips through the dry and dusty Midwest. And the smell of gasoline, the van, the dust and grass from the outside, were all secondary to the songs of Jimi Hendrix.

Many moons past and more the dream grew strong.

I’d listen to Jimi on my own, I bought his CDs. I knew who N’Sync were, but it was soft not powerful, the sugary sweet was too much. I liked the unhinged raw sound of Hendrix. I even listened to him on my way to college.

And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually

When I learned that the van had wrecked. I didn’t know what to do. We were told it takes a longer time to break with a vehicle of that mass. And that a stupid little deer could cause that much damage…the thought was like being hit in the head and seeing negative, or like a shot of horrid whiskey.

When we went to see the van in the salvage yard, the front end was smashed, complete with either Dad’s or the deer’s blood. They could have at least cleaned it up.

We took the tape out of the cassette player, and popped it into our own.

And it really didn’t have to stop, it just kept on going...
And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNAmzsuJolk